In A Dark, Dark Place
by CrystallineSolid
Summary: 'What had this job made out of him? A killer? A liar? A sinner? One of the bad guys' After all that's happened, Greg questions his own intentions. Post-ep for In A Dark, Dark House.


Yep. Here it is: my evil post-ep for the finale. And, it's the first time I've written a story in a single sitting =) That makes me happy. Review please.

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><p>Greg leaned back in the passenger seat of Nick's car, as his boyfriend drove them home. He closed his eyes, and regretted it instantly as images of Nate Haskell's dead body flashed through his head. It made him feel to sick to know that it was Ray who had done all that to Haskell. The broken nose, the banged up head...and all that blood. Greg just couldn't get the stench of that blood out of his head.<p>

He felt so incredibly angry; at Sara, at Ray, at Nick, at himself. He curled his hand into a fist and pressed it against his thigh. A low whimper escaped his throat and for a small, scary second he felt like clawing away at his own skin, because everything felt so fucking wrong.

Sara's words still echoed through his head. _We're looking for the truth here, right?_ But they weren't. They had never been looking for the truth; at least Greg hadn't been. And Sara was right. She was so so right. He had been avoiding the truth, he'd been hiding from it, because he just couldn't accept that Ray was capable of doing all that. It was wasn't possible. Not Ray, not the man he'd been working with for the last two years. But then he remembered Undersheriff Mckeen and realized that no matter how long you had worked with someone, you could never really know what was lurking in the darker corners of their mind.

He still remembered how he had felt when Demetrius James died. How wrong and guilty and disgusting he had felt. How after that he hadn't carried a gun until he absolutely had to, because he never wanted to be in that position again. He never wanted to be forced to take a life. Not again. Not when their were still days when the only words he could hear in his mind were _You didn't run over a mob! You ran over one boy! My boy!_

But Greg had had no choice. He had no other option, except to hit Demetrius James. But Ray, Ray had killed Haskell out of choice. He had pushed him over the banister, when he could have easily just cuffed him and called the cops. Didn't Ray see how sick he would feel afterwards? How disgusted he would be with himself? Didn't he realize that, even ears later, he would still wonder if he was any better than the people he put behind bars?

Greg thought he should call Sara. Tell her that she was right. That they were all wrong, for covering up the evidence. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. Because the whole team, including Sara, had stood up for him when he had been on the wrong side of the law, and the least he could do was return the favour. Ray was part of the team, and they had to have his back! But then why did Greg feel so guilty about writing that casefile that claimed Ray was innocent? Why did he feel like he was covering up for a killer, not saving an innocent man?

And now, now they had to wait and see what Internal Affairs had to say. Now they had to wait and see if they were going to lose their jobs for this, and a part of Greg felt like maybe he should lose his job over this, or that, maybe, he should just call it quits.. He had joined CSI so he could save people, so that he could be a hero and fight for the right side. But what had this job made out of him? A killer? A liar? A sinner? One of the bad guys? Wasn't that what he was now? Covering up crimes, killing teenagers...didn't that make him one of the bad guys?

Greg could feel Nick's worried eyes on him, as they flickered between him and the road. Nick was worried, Greg knew, but he still couldn't muster up the strength to look Nick in the eyes right now. Because Nick just didn't understand. He didn't understand how sick Greg felt. Nick hadn't been there, he hadn't processed Haskell's body or the room Gloria had been tortured in. Nick didn't know how scared Greg was; scared because it frightened him to know Ray was capable of doing that to Haskell; scared because when he had seen Haskell's body all he could think was, _Good riddance_ and he didn't want to ever become that insensitive towards death; scared because, even though he was angry at Ray for what he had done, Greg couldn't really be sure that he wouldn't have done the same thing; that if it had been Nick in that room instead of Gloria, he wouldn't have killed Haskell too.

But Nick didn't know. Nick hadn't been there, and more than anything, Greg needed him to have been there. He needed Nick to understand how he was feeling without having to tell him. Because he couldn't tell him, he didn't know how to tell him. He didn't know how to tell him how sick he felt. How, the whole time he was at the crime scene, all he could think about was Nick. About what he would have done if it had been Nick in that room and not Gloria.

And maybe that was why he needed that validation from Sara. He needed to know that if it had been him who killed Haskell, Sara would have his back. Because if it been Sara, then god fucking dammit, Greg would have done anything to keep her from going down for it. But what Sara had said hurt less than Greg thought it would. Because she was right. She was the only one who was still right after all that had happened. She was the only one who still knew what she was fighting for, the truth. And boy did Greg wish he could be like Sara right about now.

Greg felt Nick's warm, hand cover his own, and pry apart his fist to entwine their fingers together. Greg finally opened his eyes and looked at Nick, but the older man's gaze stayed on the road.

Nick squeezed once, but didn't look at him.

_I'm sorry, Greg._

Greg turned his face to the window and sighed. He squeezed back.

_Yeah, I'm sorry too._

But somehow, it just didn't feel fucking good enough.

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><p><em>Am I a sinner? A lover? A killer?<br>__'Cause the world I discovered, it feels nothing like my home._


End file.
